across the sky in stars
by fiesa
Summary: After the storm comes the silence. Everything changes. OneShot- Kiki, Mitsuhide. Because she can read him like an open book (burn it into your memory and then forget it all). (Also featuring: King Izana, Shirayuki, Lord Seiran, Zen and Obi.)


**across the sky in stars**

 _Summary: After the storm comes the silence. Everything changes. OneShot- Kiki, Mitsuhide. Because she can read him like an open book. (Burn it into your memory and then forget it all.)_

 _Warning: -_

 _Set: Future-fic._

 _Disclaimer: Standards apply._

* * *

 _"_ _I loved you, so I drew these tides/of men into my hands/and wrote my will across the sky in stars."  
_ [T. E. Lawrence]

 _…_

It is the second night after the last night of her old life, and she feels fine.

Strange. She should feel different, in some way or another, but she doesn't even know what to feel. She should _look_ different, too, and maybe she does but she sees no difference looking into the mirror. The world doesn't look different and neither do the people. But there is a small undercurrent of _something_ running through the castle, something like an afterglow. Maybe it should touch her, too, maybe it shouldn't. Maybe it does. Kiki isn't sure what to think anymore.

What she _does_ know: how happy Zen's smile was when Shirayuki walked along the aisle and towards him, how beautiful the woman that is like a sister to Kiki looked in her simple white dress. How many men were part of the honor guard that escorted the newly wedded pair from the chapel into the castle, how many guards were on duty on the castle walls and at the gates during that time, how many guests were seated in the chapel and how many servants were working in the grand hall after the ceremony. Where Obi was, the entire time, even if nobody noticed him. How many of the servants were guards in disguise, for protection and security. How many drunk Lords were discreetly led from the hall and towards their guest quarters at the later hours of the night. How late the last guests stayed. How Her Majesty Queen Haki handed the bride a small box and how her eyes shone when she opened it, how Zen's hand barely strayed from hers during the entire night. How they shone: the second prince and his princess, finally together, a warm, familiar light in their faces that spoke of love, happiness and peace. How much they have become a part of her, how much she wants to protect them and their happiness. How much she loves them.

How lost Mitsuhide seems when nobody is looking.

(Burn it into your memory and then forget it all.)

* * *

 _ **Izana: Power (Words)**_

"Ah, Kiki."

His Majesty Izana is an unsolvable riddle for those who do not know him, and an enigma for those who do. His politics often seem like complete impossibilities to anyone until the moment everything is set into motion and complete in its perfection, and the only thing that remains to be doing is to marvel at the intricacies of his mind. Kiki, on the other hand, is straightforward: she prefers straightforward politics, as well. But she also is the heiress of the Seiran family and as such she knows not only the general rules of the game but is a quite well-versed player herself. Despite her dislike, she knows how to manipulate others, how to gain approval of a group, how to be humble when the situation calls for it and when to play it tough and bluff. She knows how to discuss treaties and trade contracts, how to call for a vote and how to forge agreements – if necessary, even behind other people's backs. Her father has taught her well. Thankfully, the head of the Seiran house is her father by blood and by mind. They refrain from the great game of states as much as from the treachery and consequences of too much politics. It has made them a lowly family with a more famous name than fame in itself, but that suits her just fine. Kiki would rather be an ignored, honorable family head than a rich and famous liar.

In front of her King, First after God, Kiki sinks to her knees and bows her head in the ancient gesture of respect and submission.

"I have talked to your Lord Father," His Majesty says without introduction. "He informed me your engagement to the youngest son of the Lugis family has been cancelled."

"It never was official in the first place, Your Majesty."

"Is that so?" Izana's voice carries an undertone – a mixture of disinterest and mild interest along with a general note of _of course I already knew that_. "Lord Seiran expects you to return to your home after the wedding, I suppose."

He talks about it like it is a fact. Like he already knows the date although Zen has only yet proposed to Shirayuki. So it's the same for the King, she thinks: this earth-shattering security that the Second Prince and his Royal Pharmacist are one which all the people around them seem to share. There is no doubt in her heart that they are meant to be together and that they will be, forever. There are few things Kiki wishes for more than for Zen's and Shirayuki's happiness.

"He does, your Majesty." She still has to lift her head. Kiki has seen Mitsuhide and Izana converse, now and then, and always was surprised by the casualness that seemed to infuse their interaction. This is different. Kiki is Lady Katherine Seiran, heiress of Evergreen Manor and her father's titles and lands and despite her current service as Prince Zen's Sword she cannot bridge the gap between her and her king. Especially not when he has summoned her like that.

"The Seiran family has always been loyal to the Crown of Clarines."

Words, words. So little can be said with so many words. Kiki despises the courtiers, lords and ladies who do nothing but talk all day. They promise, they cajole, they blackmail in order to get what they want. They use words as a smoke screen, much like Mitsuhide uses naivety as a mask. And His Majesty does so, too, uses his words and his politics to confuse people to get what he wants. But there is a difference: Izana does it for the good of the country and its people, while lords do it for their name and their own fame. And that, Kiki can understand and respect, even if she cannot follow her Lord and King's thoughts in the way Mitsuhide can follow Zen's and she can follow Mitsuhide's.

"I wonder, Knight Seiran," Izana says and the way he emphasizes her title right now, not her full birth name, makes her shiver with a sentiment so close to fear she has to muster all the self-control she has not to twitch. "Have you decided which role you would like to take up once you have left the court?"

Once she leaves the court, nothing will be the same ever again. She won't be Zen's Sword, or Mitsuhide's partner. She won't even be her father's beloved daughter: she will be the heiress of the Seiran name. Knight Seiran will disappear. _Kiki_ will disappear.

As the person she is, the person she has been made into by meetings, time and those she loves, Kiki wants to cry out at that. As the person she has been taught to be, she keeps silent, her eyes on the ground.

"I have, Your Majesty."

Mild interest. "And what would that be?"

"The Seiran family has always put the Crown's interest before everything else." Kiki can imagine him frown, brows arched. "No matter where I am, I will always protect His Highness' interests. Your Majesty and the Second Prince can count on my family's full support."

It's not a slip of the tongue that she uses _His Highness_ – the title of the Second Prince. The King doesn't react to this almost deliberate challenge, just gazes at her and she feels herself shrinking. It's like she is becoming translucent, disappearing, and one day (not so far in the future) she will be gone entirely. Kiki might as well never have existed, Lady Katherine Seiran will remain. Two people, and she is neither of them and both. The thought is a dagger to her heart.

In front of the window, a grey song trush sings in the green vines of the wisteria climbing the castle walls. It doesn't bloom quite yet. The Seiran family's full support. Kiki cannot very well promise more than that, but she can't give more than her heart and her sword. Incidentally, the world does not want the latter so she grits her teeth and refuses to move.

(Or is it that it needs the former more?)

"It will be a pleasure welcoming you at the Castle as the official head of the Seiran family," her King says and sounds like he is smiling. Izana's smiles can be poisonous, lethal, dangerous, challenging and weary, and she expects this time it's one of the latter. "Please give my greetings to my Royal Brother."

Kiki recognizes a dismissal when she is confronted with one. Usually, she would rise and take her leave, but this time – this one time, the first and only time – she remains kneeling, her head bowed respectfully.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, may I speak freely?"

She can feel him shuffle, like he has moved from one side of the window to the other, like he has stepped back to his desk and now waits for her to finish. "Go on."

"You chose Mitsuhide as Prince Zen's aide." It's a statement: she knows the story. Izana trusted Mitsuhide, even if he was young and immature and rash, more inclined to serve the First Prince than the Second. And yet there is no one who is more loyal to Zen now than Mitsuhide is, and that is something to say for His Majesty's ability to read the innermost feelings of a person.

The King picks up on her thoughts, his face impassive. "Zen chose you."

 _Not for himself,_ she thinks. But yes, it is true: Zen chose her, and she chose him. Her Prince and his aide: she chose them both.

"Yes."

Kiki glances up and catches Izana smiling: a flash of true kindness. For a second she can see the brother she never had but Zen has.

"He chose well."

The last thing she sees when she exits the room is his profile, regal and calm, as he bends down to something on his desk. His last words resonate within her. They carry approval, but also more: confidence in her abilities, and his trust that she will continue to serve Zen as well as she has until here. It's his Majesty the King's approval of her, Katherine Seiran, and his acceptance of the fact that she will serve her liege lord even if not in her capacity as his sword but as the head of a noble family of the Kingdom.

And that means more to her than every medal and badge of honor he could have awarded her.

* * *

 _ **Shirayuki: Kindness (Smile)**_

It is five months to the wedding, a normal day, and Kiki is running through her daily morning exercise forms when Shirayuki finds her in the training hall. Winter is only yet passing away and the first hesitant spring flowers are raising their heads through the last patches of snow. Outside the castle walls, the voices of guards-in-training can be heard. It has been years since Kiki last exercised with them. Still, she smiles when she hears the sharp commands and the sound of heels clicking onto the training ground pavement. It's Mitsuhide who has the morning shift today, so she's by herself. Her muscles feel languid and warm. Kiki loves the training, enjoys the way stiff arms and legs turn supple and strong by the continuously flowing movements of her sword-training forms. The windows of the hall still are closed against the cold outside but the reflection of morning sun light on the sea out at the harbors is visible even up here. The Royal Apothecary's face is blushed from wind and cold. Shirayuki is wearing a hesitant but determined expression on her face and when she sees Kiki, she breaks into a smile.

"Good morning, Kiki."

Considerate as she is she has waited for the swordswoman to finish her training. Kiki sheathes her sword, wipes away sweat and dust with a towel and joins the red-haired woman at the window.

"Good morning. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you." They exchange a smile.

Shirayuki glances outside and at the castle grounds below, at the sea that is barely visible behind the castle walls. It's a peculiar piece of architecture, Castle Wistalia: with its balconies and walls, its guard towers and galleries and open hallways. It's far more modern than Evergreen, the Seiran family's seat of power, and larger, too. But mainly it is the openness Kiki loves, the view of the gardens and the forest and the sea. And, of course, the people within its walls.

"Spring is awakening," she says with a wistful smile. "Soon, the snow will be completely gone."

Kiki nods her consent and tugs the hair band out of her hair in order to re-braid it. It has grown long over the past years. Has it really been three years since she cut it again and Mitsuhide told her she looked prettier with her hair long? It's a hassle, mainly, because she cannot leave it open without it tangling together. It's impractical for sword training and requires more care, but she likes the feel of it falling down her back.

(And the feeling of Mitsuhide's eyes on her.)

Shirayuki is silent, and Kiki waits. She knows her friend will talk when she is ready, and also that Shirayuki doesn't mind her silence. Finally, the younger woman speaks. "I have been thinking," she says. "In Tanbarun, it is tradition for a bride to have a bridesmaid at her wedding. Is it like this in Clarines, too?"

Kiki leans back. She hasn't expected such a question, to be honest, because Shirayuki seemed content to let the Royal ministers and officials organize the wedding and only had claimed the choice (and preparation) of the floral decoration for herself. But it's not like Kiki does not know the answer to her question, and that, presumably, is why Shirayuki chose her. "A traditional Clarines' wedding only requires the groom, the bride and a priest to conduct the ceremony. It has become custom, though, for each bride and groom to bring a witness. This particular people have nowadays roughly gained the standing a bridesmaid and best man would have in Tanbarun."

Shirayuki nods slowly. "Do you think it would be strange for me to choose someone as my bridesmaid – as my witness?"

"Seeing as you are from Tanbarun, I don't think so." Kiki stops, runs the scenario through her head. Even Lord Haruka couldn't oppose the request, could he? And if he did so – to hell with him. She'd make sure he wouldn't interfere. _Zen_ would probably make sure of that. And he'd gotten pretty good at it, too. The last time the overprotective, conservative Lord had made a proposal the Second Prince had regarded as antiquated and unnecessary, Zen had taken him down a few notches, and all the while he hadn't lifted his voice or stopped smiling even _once_.

Shirayuki seems unconvinced, though. She looks at her hands, casts her eye over the view they have from the training hall window. Then, she straightens her back and lifts her head defiantly. "Kiki, would you do me the honor of being my bridesmaid?"

Kiki prides herself in always expecting the unexpected: this, here, she hasn't seen coming. She's so surprised she needs a few seconds until she finds her voice.

"I?"

Shirayuki steps forward and takes her hands, and Kiki is reminded of the fact that this woman is not only younger than her but very much different. Kiki would never touch another person just like that: for Shirayuki, it is a way to show her affection, simple and clear. Kiki looks at the other woman and follows her features: Shirayuki is beautiful. It's not as much an outer than an inner beauty, but there is no denying it. Her apple-red hair has grown in the past two years, it falls past her shoulders in a simple braid. A few strands have escaped and frame her face. Her green eyes are calm and her hands are worn and used, not quite calloused as Kiki's but undeniably hands that are used to working. And warm. Her hands and her eyes and her gaze are warm, familiar, and Kiki has the usual feeling of _She is perfect for Zen thank God we met her._

"I would be honored."

Shirayuki embraces her. Kiki stands frozen, for a few heart beats, and then returns the gesture. When they break apart they exchange a smile and again she is stuck by it. There is a glow in the aura of her almost-sister that is becoming the more pronounced the closer the wedding is coming, and it is not from fear. No, rather the opposite: it seems she becomes even calmer. Like Shirayuki has known, since the day she knelt on the forest floor in front of the Second Prince of Clarines and answered his question; that this would be the outcome, and that there is nothing in the world that can come in between them.

"I will have to buy a dress, then, I suppose."

She wouldn't have thought Shirayuki's smile could become even brighter, but it does.

* * *

 _ **Lord Seiran: Loyalty (Letters)**_

"Dear Father," the letter begins.

Kiki has written to her father a great number of times since she had come to the court to serve as Zen's second aide. Expressing herself has always seemed easier via written correspondence than it was when she was sitting face-to-face with him. She's always been reserved, anxious not to let anyone too close. Her father has told her she was just like her mother, except that she smiled less. Kiki always imagined the story: her father, the Lord of the Seiran House, outgoing, cheerful and stubborn, and the cool, beautiful and equally stubborn second daughter of the Lehane family. A noble family with ancient roots but, in the grand scheme of things that made a kingdom function: completely unimportant. Which was why his decision to court her had caused an uproar among his kinsmen and why Lady Karith Lehane had refused to acknowledge her wealthy suitor for the first two years. He'd worn her down, eventually, with a mixture of charm, stubbornness and faith that couldn't go by unnoticed. A turbulent courtship, a partnership filled with love and mutual understanding. A love story, small, but ultimately the world for Kiki. Its tales accompany her throughout childhood and teenage years: _I want a love that will change my life._ But Kiki is realistic, too. She is her father's only daughter. She needs to learn, she needs to train in order to prepare to inherit his name and his position. She can't rely on anyone because that would mean to allow herself a weakness, and she can't be weak. She will rule the Seiran family once. She has to be strong. And love is not a part of that equation.

 _You look just like your mother._ Her father's face is smiling whenever he says the words, but his eyes are sad.

And Kiki knows that there is no love story for her written in the stars, only her duty to the person she cares for most.

(Zen joins the list later, and Shirayuki. And Mitsuhide, always Mitsuhide.)

"My duty to the Second Prince will be concluded with the sealing of his bond to Mistress Shirayuki."

The paper under her hand feels smooth and thick, the pen a strangely foreign object in her hand now that she is more used to a sword than a quill. Becoming a knight, like Mitsuhide, never was a part of her future plan. Kiki learned to fight because she wanted to be able to do anything the son her father never had and would have would have been able to do so. Her father has always supported her, but being nominated Sword of the Second Prince wasn't what he had planned for her, either. Still. Looking back, meeting Zen and coming to the castle as his aide was and always will be the thing that saved her, and she is grateful. She suspects her father knows this, as well. It's impossible to hide anything from him.

"I will then be free to return to Evergreen to assume my duties, as befitting the heiress of the House of Seiran. I will be depending on your guidance for my further education."

She hesitates over the last line. She's never written it before. The thought hurts: soon, she will be someone else. But there is the corner of her heart that is reserved for her father, and the love she has for him – albeit tempered by distance and expectations and, from her side, perhaps unnecessary withdrawal – is very real. He is, after all, her father: growing up, she has learned to see him with different eyes.

"With love, Your daughter Katherine."

She seals the letter – evergreen twining around a rearing horse, the seal of the Seiran Family – and sends it on its way.

Kiki cannot fall asleep that evening. She lies in her bed, her eyes open wide towards the dim darkness that softens the edges of the world and smoothens out reality, and she knows there is only so much time left until she has to leave.

If she could cry, she would. But Katherine Seiran has taught herself long ago not to weep.

* * *

 ** _Obi: Truth (Misdirection)_**

The day the Mountain Lions arrive is all blue sky and clouds like dreams; and the palace already is a-bustle with all the preparations necessary for the great ceremony in some week's time. Kiki watches the mercenaries' arrival from the window of Zen's office. Behind her, Mitsuhide and Zen are discussing the guard plans for Raxd Castle; and Obi has disappeared to who-knows-where and isn't to be seen. The air outside is clear yet cool and the spring flowers are alive with colors. It's not yet summer, but it soon will be.

The tall figure of Shirayuki's father easily looms over the other Mountain Lions. Kazuki's blond hair shines brightly and though Kiki cannot hear their voices she feels she knows them well enough to imagine the ongoing conversation. The Master of Ceremonies talks to the mercenaries and then disappears into the Castle once again. The Mountain Lions – true to form – exchange glances, first surprised, then amused and finally mischievous – and then Shirayuki's father makes a movement too fast for her to decode and the group disperses. Kiki watches Kazuki take off into the trees while another man disappears towards the guard towers and three others march off in direction of the Castle. Oh, oh. The Master of Ceremonies will suffer a stroke as soon as he realizes the guests haven't waited for him but have gone to get to know their surroundings by themselves… She suppresses a smile. Nobody will get close to King Izana, and Zen, too, is guarded well enough. But she is looking forward to the din the Lions will create once they find the kitchens.

Obi appears at her side sometime in the middle of her early-morning shift the next day. The sun hasn't yet risen and Zen's asleep in his quarters, Kiki knows because she can feel his warm presence even during his sleep. He sleeps fitfully, so different from the time when Shirayuki wasn't near, and she is glad. He needs every second of rest he can get.

The shinobi moves in soundlessly but she has him tagged the moment he slips into the shadows on the far side of the corridors. When he appears she has her sword ready, its tip comes to rest against the blade of one of his throwing knifes.

"Sharp as always, Miss Kiki."

Turning away, she sheathes her sword again. "Where were you yesterday?"

Obi shrugs, grinning. "Oh. Here, there."

It's impossible to get more from him if he objects to the obvious determination to make his whereabouts and plans traceable. Kiki knows and it exasperates her, but she accepts it, too.

"Whatever."

"Where ever, you mean."

By now, they can hold whole conversations in short-hand. It's nothing special, has no deeper meaning: it's just that she knows what he means when he gets all ironic-amused-cryptic, and he knows what she says when she doesn't say anything at all. It's nothing romantic, only just barely camaraderie. Obi's too different from her, too similar, for them to get along well. But they understand each other. Kiki doesn't particularly like it but she doesn't dislike it, either.

"Three weeks." Obi sounds wistful.

Kiki allows for it. "Many things will change."

"You have, haven't you?"

That's not the question here. "No."

"But you'll leave."

"Yes."

"You're not losing anything, you know. Not anymore."

She might not, but it feels like she will. Like she will lose something great and beloved, and there is nothing she can do.

"It's… odd."

"It's like you bound yourself to other people, and now you can't go back." His gaze scans the sky above them.

"You can't, either."

"Figures."

"But it's not lonely."

"No. Not anymore."

A sea gull dances on the evening drafts, high above the castle's towers. There's something the shinobi needs to say, and she can wait. She will wait. As Mitsuhide did, all those times in the past, Kiki can wait and show that she cares, and help others figure out things on their own.

"I never thought I'd be the one to settle down." He's completely calm, relaxed, even, but there's a nuance in his voice that shows her it's far more important to him than one would think from his posture and his tone. "I always thought I'd be on the road forever, never having a place to come back to."

It's not the same, not exactly. She always had a home, a place to return. But at the same time she was alone, too. That's what Obi is playing at: they are loners, both of them.

"You found something." It's not a question.

He grins. "I found something." His hand softly rakes through the light blue buds of not-yet-blooming wisteria trailing down the castle walls outside of the window they're standing at. "Like you did."

"Maybe."

"He loves you, you know. Mitsuhide. Haven't I told you so?"

A different conversation: _Because you love him._ "No."

"You have a good memory."

Silence, and then Obi chuckles softly. "I always thought you'd never smile. But you do."

"So?"

"You smile with your eyes, Miss Kiki." And, because there's only one person in the world Obi shows unconditional politeness and kindness, and it isn't her: "I bet you'd be even prettier if you smiled with your lips, too."

Kiki responds in the way she always does: not at all. For a while, silence hangs between them. The first birds' song drifts through the windows.

"You will find your way."

"Huh?" Obi's head shoots round to meet her gaze, surprise, for once, etched into his features clearly. Kiki knows she's not the one one looks to for advice, but this one time, she wants to give it. "Don't doubt yourself that much. You'll make the right decision."

"You're very deep today," Obi returns after a long pause, and she knows he's trying to lighten the mood.

"There is always more than everything."

Walking away Kiki can feel Obi's gaze in her back and for once she hopes she's been able to give him what he's given her, in the past. Not everything, not nearly that much.

But enough.

* * *

 _ **Zen: Faith (Shoulders)**_

It hits her in the middle of the ceremony.

The sky is blue above the chapel and the open walls stretch high into the sky. The building is unique in Clarines: a church in everything, with high pillars, mosaic floors and stone and wood and the scent of incense. But the walls open into an invisible ceiling. The scent of summer permeates the air, the soft echoes of birds and the wind in the tree tops, and Kiki cannot imagine a more beautiful place than this. The stone benches are filled with people, selected carefully. Dust dances in the sunlight, turning everything into silver and bright, reflects from the glass windows and the crystal candle sticks and the warm colors of the guests' vests and dresses. The long church body flows into the altar room, a flight of steps easing the transition. A priest stands at the top of them, his white-and-blue robes almost modest compared to the lavish colors surrounding him. His hands folded, he waits patiently. Kiki is placed a few steps below him, mirroring Mitsuhide's position on the other side of the stairs. And below them: Zen Wistalia, Second Prince of Clarines.

Royal colors, unsheathed sword; his head bare except for a small circlet of silver. His hands hang by his sides loosely, his face is relaxed: for the world, he looks like he has no care at all. Kiki knows him better. She can see the stiffness in his shoulders. She knows he barely slept or ate, and somehow she can sympathize. It's not that he has to fear his bride changing her mind, or something as banal as embarrassing himself. Kiki thinks it's the fact that his dream is coming true – finally, _finally_ – after so many years, and it's the thought that his wish might be fulfilled so soon that scares him. But at the same time he knows there's nothing to be afraid of as long as the people he holds dear are by his side. It's his duty – Zen Wistalia's duty as the Second Prince of Clarines, to his people and to his country – to serve as best as he can. And Shirayuki gives him strength to do so. Zen knows this, and Kiki knows it, too. She knows he will not fail, not them nor his people. She knows he deserves happiness, and she wishes for him and for his bride to have it with all her heart. She knows they will complement each other, and love each other and care for each other. She has watched them seasons, years and days. She knows there is no need to worry, and she knows both Zen and Mitsuhide on the other side of the stairs and Shirayuki behind the tall chapel doors know it. She knows she will love them forever, and serve them forever.

Kiki knows Zen's been taller than her for quite some time, but it never actually _felt_ that way before.

Now he is standing below her, two steps and more, and yet she barely reaches up to his shoulders. These are no longer the shoulders of the stocky and humorous boy prince she met first all those years ago, and not the lanky figure of the child growing out of puberty and into adulthood. Once upon a time, in a dark training hall with the full moon painting shadows and light onto the stone floor and Mitsuhide's warm presence next to her ( _so close, so far away_ ) he told her he'd realized Zen's true character looking at his back. Understanding the fundamental character of Zen's is something Mitsuhide has mastered long ago and something Kiki doubted, until today, that she was able to do. Now she _sees_ : a man with the heart of a lion, a heart that encompasses the world, with the strength of his convictions and his unshakeable faith.

Shirayuki enters the chapel in a jubilantly rising chorus of instruments and summer enters with her.

On a beautiful day in the first weeks of summer Zen Wistalia, Second Prince of Clarines, marries Shirayuki, the Royal Apothecary. The open chapel is full of light and music and the scent of summer. Zen's smile is brilliant and small, as if he has to keep it in check lest it would shout out his happiness to the entire world. Shirayuki's eyes when he lifts the thin veil are glowing. This, Kiki thinks, is not a union of two people but the symmetry of one heart. She has to smile at her own hopelessly romantic thoughts but vows to become the humorless, sarcastic person Obi always claims her to be within hours after the ceremony. Her heart full of joy, she turns to Mitsuhide to share her love for the couple in front of her, her loyalty and her happiness for the two of them.

And Mitsuhide…

The music starts again and Kiki has to shake herself back to reality, as if she is awakening from a dream. The doors at the end of the chapel open and the newlyweds start towards the exit under the joyous chorus of voices. The sun catches in the silvery shimmer of Shirayuki's veil and reflects of Zen's bare sword, and Kiki can't look at Mitsuhide any longer.

* * *

 ** _Mitsuhide: Strength (Ocean)_**

Even days after the royal wedding, the castle breathes euphoria. Everyone seems to bask in the afterglow of the night, the music, the food and the dances. Kiki can't blame the people even though she thinks it a little exhausting, too. There is only so much happiness she can stand; especially during these days, when everything she has known for the past almost-decade of her life is coming to an end. But the light that was born the moment Shirayuki put her hand into Zen's carries her, too, through the following days of summer, and despite everything, it is… _good_. It is good to see the people so happy and peaceful, and to see Zen and Shirayuki so content within each other. But she cannot forget, does not _want_ to forget. Kiki has long ago accepted the fact that the last years she has spent with those most important people of hers were borrowed time, and that everything comes to an end, eventually. She has accepted it – but it does not stop her from being afraid. And then, there's…

"Let's fight."

Her partner's gaze speaks of the surprise he feels in the face of her challenge and Kiki knows why. They spar each morning as a part of their training. It's routine. They practice their forms, exchange a few blows and go through the motions of a duel but never keep track. Now, however, Kiki places the sand timer and dons her chest armor, and it is clear she has something else in mind than a simple sparring round.

"Come on. I challenge you."

And, when he still does not react, she frowns: "Sir Mitsuhide Rouen, I challenge you to a duel."

"Nonsense." When Mitsuhide finally answers, he sounds flat. He knows something is off because he knows her as well as she knows him. But he can't know her reasons. She has hidden them carefully, all these years, especially for the last three. Now, finally, there is no reason to do so anymore. Not with their promise fulfilled and with her leaving to keep another one. And yet she falters in the face of his expression. This is the end of _them_ and he knows it but he refuses to accept. And because he is the only one who will stay with Zen after she has left, she needs him to get over it.

(And the air between them is empty and cold.)

"I don't know what you are planning, but I'm not dueling you." He returns to the benches at the far side of the hall and leans his sword against the racks holding rows after rows of wooden training weapons. His shoulders are stiff, frozen. To everyone who does not know Prince Zen's aide he would seem angry, but she knows better. It is impossible to mistake Mitsuhide's anger for anything else than what it is. His fury is cold, so unlike himself, and only once has Kiki found herself on the receiving side of his discontent. Since the event three years ago she has taken pains to avoid confrontations with him. It's not especially hard, because Mitsuhide is virtually unable to hold a grudge. But Kiki would recognize the symptoms everywhere: the low, burning ice and the steel in his shoulders. Only now, it is not anger she feels in him. There is a barely visible tension in his posture that screams how tightly coiled he is and yet makes no sound, and she can't place it but she _feels_ it as if it was her own. Oh, to give him credit for it: Mitsuhide hides it so well she could have missed it had she not known what to look for. Zen certainly hasn't notice it; granted, he has more important things on his mind right now. Kiki learned long ago that Mitsuhide, despite his straightforward character, was exceptionally good in hiding his thoughts and feelings. But this time, she can _see_ it. On a fundamental level, with a sense so inexplicable that her mind refuses to form around it and make it a rational concept, she can _feel_ it: they are out of synch. They have been two halves of a whole – _MitsuhideandKiki, KikiandMitsuhide_ – so long it feels like there was no other way of existence for either one of them. Now she is alone, utterly and completely, and her other half is on the other side of the training hall but for all she cares he could be on the other side of the world. _This wasn't supposed to be like this,_ she thinks, and she feels like she is falling apart. It is not him who is to blame for this long-expected and yet painfully, achingly sudden separation. It's not Mitsuhide who is at fault, but neither is it hers.

But Mitsuhide is falling apart, as well, and she can't let this happen.

"You're a coward."

Kiki says it softly, deliberately, and watches him flinch. Her heart contracts with the same pain. She didn't want to resort to this, but he's not giving her any choice.

"You're afraid. You saw Zen at the wedding, and you thought you're not needed anymore."

Mitsuhide is standing with his back to her, but she can see his shoulders stiffen. The knuckles of the one hand in her field of vision turn white.

"You know what? If you really think that – that he has changed, that the person you have served for the past ten years does not _want_ you anymore, does not _need_ you anymore – then you're right. Zen _does_ _not_ need a cowardly Sword."

When he doesn't move she chokes out the words, surprised at how steady her voice is.

"So Hisame was right. How could I expect a common soldier who only was chosen because he knew the right people to protect Zen with his life?"

This is the last blow, the lowest one she could have placed, and she knows it. Kiki can see each single hurtful word reach him: all the doubts he has been fighting, all the accusations other people have flung at him. All the resentment-filled phrases people like Hisame Lugis have condescendingly mocked him with.

"Take it back."

She closes her eyes, fists her hands and steels herself. "No."

"En garde." His voice is pure ice. Usually, it is reserved for the vilest of his enemies because even in anger, Mitsuhide is courteous. Kiki never was the recipient of his anger, not like this: it feels like she is bleeding out on the inside. But she lifts her sword into a defensive position and takes up her stance in the middle of the training hall. Reminds herself that this is what she wanted, either way.

They fight.

 _When we fought for the first time,_ Mitsuhide had told her the last time they had truly fought, _I couldn't afford to lose. But now we know each other._

And it is true. Kiki knew him three years ago, now she still knows him by heart. She knows his movements and his strategies, his feints, his attacks. She knows he drops his sword a fraction before he uses a certain attack, she knows he tends to turn to the left in ninety percent of the cases when he dodges her low, two-handed blows. She knows him like she knows herself, and she knows he knows it. And he knows her, and that is why they have been evenly matched for a long time now. Neither of them will win, and neither one of them can afford to lose.

Only today, something is different.

She should have known: she has backed him into a corner. Mitsuhide has nothing more to lose. His strokes are less thoughtful and more brute force. He doesn't allow for cunning, for strategy or even for mistakes on her part and it takes Kiki endless heartbeats to understand. By the time she finally does, sweat is running down their faces, her hair has come lose and they are locked in a stalemate in which they usually would cycle each other like wolves, waiting for an opening. But today, Mitsuhide does not wait. He attacks, again and again. He doesn't care for the consequences, for his own safety or for hers, he doesn't care for anything anymore right now. He's attacking like there is nothing else he has to live for, and his defense shows weaknesses. He's fighting her like he knows no way back and if she defends herself, she will injure him. It might not be dangerous, not lethal by far but the sole idea of _her_ sword hurting _Mitsuhide_ – it freezes her heart. Kiki makes her decision in the second between heartbeats. And she waits – waits – _waits –_ and then steps aside and lowers her weapon.

Mitsuhide's sword pommel – even in his anger, he does not forget he is not fighting to death – meets her chest plate in an ear-splitting, metallic ring and knocks her backwards. Kiki goes down without a sound, her back hitting the stone floor with bone-shattering force. She stretches herself like she has been taught – like she has done a thousand times before – to take the impact off her spine and slides backwards. It's much better than what would have happened had she landed squarely on her back and yet for a second, she can't breathe.

When the mist in front of her eyes clears Mitsuhide is looking down at her, terror etched into his features.

It flashes in front of her eyes: the look on his face, a few days ago, the chapel and the flowers and the overwhelming scent of summer. She remembers his face clear as a day; in the fraction of the second between the onset of the music and Shirayuki's entrance. These staggeringly blue and grey eyes, like oceans after a storm: she has seen them surprised and all-knowing, laughing and angry, cold and heated. But she has never seen quite _this_ expression in them. In the small chapel, with all the beauty and happiness surrounding her, Kiki saw the one thing that could make her falter: Mitsuhide looked _lost_.

Cold stone beneath her, a high ceiling, sun streaming in through the wide, open windows. Violet wisteria almost climbs inside over the window sills.

"Are you alright?" Mitsuhide is supporting her upper body; one arm under her shoulders, the other one frantically trying to push away sweat-sticky hair plastered to her face. "Kiki, can you hear me? Gods, I am so sorry, I shouldn't have- Kiki, answer me!"

His voice is on the verge of breaking. Kiki lifts her hand and grasps the one that is rough and trembling against the side of her face, and she doesn't let go.

"I'm okay. I'm fine, Mitsuhide. It was just a fall. I'm fine."

She never saw him break before, but now she does. She wraps both her arms around his shoulders when he buries his face in her hair, his entire body shaking, and whispers it like a prayer: _I'm fine. I'm fine. Everything will be fine._ _You'll be fine, Mitsuhide._

 _I love you._

* * *

 ** _Kiki: Temperance (Sky)_**

She always liked dresses.

They were impractical, and heavy, and sometimes their elaborate styles made her tear at her own hair in helpless rage. They were only _dresses_ , for God's sake. She should be able to get into them all by herself, not need the aid of two to two-and-a-half maids to hold her skirts, close the buttons and drape her trains! Those were the problems Sword Kiki Seiran never had. Lady Kathrine Seiran, however, learned to walk in those heavy gowns, learned to move and to curtsey without stepping onto the hems or the trains. Lady Katherine was used to maids fussing over her for hours before a ball.

Katherine Seiran has learned to be both: a lady and a knight.

Kiki prefers the simple dresses, the light cloth and simple colors. The kind of dresses one can just slip into and be done with it. The dresses that feel like summer and wind and sun, like horse-riding with her favorite mare, like sitting in the forest and watching the deer in the early evening. Like learning sword-fighting with her elder brother, in those early days when she still had one. But Kiki hasn't worn a dress like this even once since she came to the palace to serve Zen. Ball gowns, yes, she has worn those for official events. And, of course, the bridesmaid gown for the wedding. Kiki hasn't worn a dress just for _herself_ in a long, long time, and perhaps it finally is time to recall some of the splinters of Lady Katherine that have been buried – but never forgotten – within her mind and heart.

(Two days since Zen has officially dismissed Sword Seiran.)

Mitsuhide is where she expects him to be at this time of the morning: in the training hall. He's not practicing, however. He's sitting on the window sill of one of the tall windows, his gaze far away. Kiki can only see his profile: his strong features and set of shoulders, and all of it reaches out to her. He turns when she moves closer, alerted by her steps and perhaps by the uncanny intuition that they share that lets them know when the other is near, this sense of each other Kiki has so desperately missed for the past week until their fight the day before. His eyes widen in recognition and then in something else as he takes in her appearance.

"You look beautiful," he says.

And, because it's Mitsuhide, he gets flustered when she does not reply immediately: "I mean, you did look pretty before, but you're wearing a dress, and you look different. Not bad different, I mean, just… different?"

Things Kiki will carry with her forever: Mitsuhide's eyes when he sees her walking down the aisle towards the altar in her bridesmaid dress.

( _The most beautiful woman in this world.)_

"Stop it," she says and sits down next to him. She can feel the sun-warmed stones through the thin material of her dress, and Mitsuhide's presence next to her.

Obediently, he stops talking. But he flashes her a smile before continuing to look out over the ocean. It's small and pained, but it is something. They sit in silence.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Kiki finally says. She thinks she can feel her partner – former partner – flinch, but when she looks at him he refuses to meet her gaze. "You will have to see to it that Zen does not forget to sleep."

He nods, quietly.

"And Obi has to behave. He'll have to substitute for me until everything settles."

Again, silence answers.

Kiki almost smiles. "Won't you ever talk to me again?"

"What if I didn't?"

Repetition of the same old song.

Her answer should be: "I wouldn't mind." But nothing leaves her mouth because she _does_. Kiki does mind. She has known for quite some time now: there is no way to cut him out of her life without losing herself. The same as there is no way to stop being who she was and start being someone else. She has no idea how she is supposed to do it: this complete rearrangement of who she is. There is this feeling she has, this tiny doubt nagging away at her unrelentingly.

 _Knight Seiran will never have existed._

And that's not what she wants. Kiki wants to remember this forever: this place, this time, these years she has come to spend in the presence of these wonderful people. She's Zen's knight and Shirayuki's somewhat-sister and Obi's verbal sparring opponent and Mitsuhide's partner, and she loves them with an intensity that makes her burn. Erasing her existence as Kiki is like erasing her past with them, and she doesn't think she can live like that. In the face of this unspeakable future, she falters, desperately trying to keep up her façade. Tries to swallow past the lump in her throat and the burning sensation in her eyes, and she refuses to let him know.

But still, Mitsuhide seems to feel something. Kiki can't say what, or how she has given herself away. He never was good with words, but he tries.

(For that alone, she would love him.)

"That was silly," he says when the pause between them gets too long. "I apologize. We will miss you, you know."

It's safe, the _we_ he uses, and it hurts her at the same time that it makes her happy. There is something in his voice, like a forced laugh. He's trying valiantly.

"Shirayuki won't have anyone to share her stories about Zen with. And Zen and Obi will probably conspire to give me heart attacks every other day." A deep breath, and he continues. "I know you don't want to leave. But your duties are both to Zen and to your father. I just want you to know that I don't hold it against you. You're you, no matter where you are. Don't forget, okay?"

His smile is strained, but full of him. And Kiki… She can only gaze at Mitsuhide in silent wonder, her heart in her throat. She can only stare into these grey eyes: in them, she only sees herself. And suddenly, Kiki _understands_.

She has been daughter, lady and heiress, and knight, protector and sword. She thought she could only ever be one of those things, only ever be Zen's aide or her father's heiress. She thought so… But Mitsuhide sees her as both: as Kiki and as Katherine.

(And for that alone…)

So Kiki stretches herself upwards – he is still taller than her even when sitting on the window sill like that – tugs him down at his collar and kisses him.

He tastes like sweat and sea and sun and Mitsuhide.

And then his hands cup her shoulder blades and run down her back. Even through the material of her dress, his warmth burns into her. His hands fist into her hair and he kisses her right back, and she never, ever, _ever_ wants him to let go of her again.

But of course he does.

She can still taste him on her lips. Her eye lids are heavy, her body is humming like a taut steel ( _silk_ ) thread and she wants to crawl onto his lap, wants to press herself into him until she is one with his body and his heart and soul. Kiki wants to feel his heartbeat under her lips – but he looks at her with hooded eyes that mirror hurt and betrayal. Something is very, very wrong, and Kiki forces herself to sit completely still.

"Don't," Mitsuhide says and brushes the back of his hand across his lips as if to wipe away her touch, and _he kissed her back,_ didn't he? "Don't… Don't do this when you'll be engaged to someone else soon."

Her thoughts grate to halt. " _What?_ "

His fists open and close helplessly and he refuses to look at her. "This... It won't work. You're a lady, and I'm… And besides, you have someone in mind you want as your future husband, don't you? You told your father, when we went to visit him three years ago. I haven't forgotten."

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Well, she shouldn't be surprised, should she? It's Mitsuhide, after all. Mitsuhide, who tends to misinterpret – and who would never forgive himself if he ever misunderstood something that concerned other peoples' lives. Who would rather not ask than risk putting someone else in an awkward position, who didn't ask her for _three_ years. Who chose to not know rather than to risk offending her – or rather, risk _losing her_ – and, in the process, probably has hurt himself more than he would ever intentionally or unintentionally hurt a person he cares for. Mitsuhide, who, in those first weeks working side by side with her, couldn't even speak her name without blushing and who has become the one person she relies on, forever and always, the one person who understands her without any reservation and the one person she wants to guard her back. He never suspected anything, never asked her – and yet had the galls to chase away any other person who ever showed any remote interest in her.

"Mitsuhide," Kiki says and can't help love the way his name rolls over her tongue. He seems to realize it, because his body coils in tension. "Mitsuhide, you _clueless_ idiot. I meant _you_."

 _I love you._

He just stares at her, so Kiki inches closer and kisses him again: softly, this time, her lips the ghost of a touch on his. Then, she leans back again.

"Did you hear me?"

His jaws work as if he's still processing her words, still thinking of what to say. But understanding is dawning in his eyes, making them shine brighter and brighter with every second. Kiki's hands are trembling with the strength of holding back. He catches her right one with his, draws it to him, and his thumb paints circles on the back of her hand. His touch burns through her like lightning.

"Do you mean it?" He demands. Something is dawning in his eyes, something that makes her very glad she's already sitting. It was always there, she has to remind herself, he just never let it show. But this is different, somehow. Somehow… Overwhelming.

"I never say something I don't mean," she tells him instead.

Mitsuhide pulls her closer and she falls against him. He enfolds her in a hug so tight it takes her breath away and Kiki climbs onto his lap again and relaxes into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders without any intention of ever letting go again. His hair is incredibly soft.

The scent of the blooming wisteria mixes with the distant smell of the ocean. There is no place on earth she would rather be.


End file.
